The Annual Visit
by Cami Boricua
Summary: "I expected that, by now, it would be bearable, but bloody hell, the pain is still the same, Francis."


**Warning: Character death, language**

 **Rating: T (Y'all are old enough)**

 **Disclaimer: No, Hetalia is not mine, but the plot line is.**

* * *

White wildflowers were growing in the field in front of him. Normally, he minded them as they would often interfere with the flowers he was actually trying to grow, but years later, he could see that they had a charm of their own when let grown undisturbed. The crispy air flew by, and all he hear was the wind hitting the tall grasses mixed with his own breathing and the steps that were coming towards him. If he closed his eyes, perhaps he could go back to the times he was actually happy. Unfortunately, every time he closed his eyes, he went back to the moment his happiness was snatched away.

The screen door that led to the veranda opened. He sighed. He did not look to see who it was. He already knew who. "What are you doing here, Francis?" His voice held no anger nor disgust. He simply asked a pointless question to which he already knew the answer to.

"How did you know it was me, Arthur?" Francis stood behind the rocking chair where he, Arthur, was sitting at. He spoke with the same tone Arthur would never admit he missed.

"I heard that hunk of junk you still call car park up the driveway?" Arthur answered simply. "Seriously, why don't you just get a new car?" Arthur always perceived

Francis as a person who would change car every time a new model came out, but lo and behold, twenty years later and Francis still drove the old car that had been through everything.

"You know why I don't have a new car. That one has memories," Francis said with a longing tone. Arthur understood him completely.

"Far too many," Arthur muttered as he stood up. When standing up, Arthur got a better look at the lake on the distance. It was one of the reasons he bought this house years ago. A huge field for a backyard with a lake at the end that held a dock. Arthur knew they would love it and they did. His heart hurt and Arthur hoped that putting his hand on his chest would somehow stop it. At the docks, a boat laid rusting, another memory holder, waiting to be used for one last time.

Arthur took a deep breath and turned away. He was not going to cry. He had no more tears to cry. When he turned, he found himself face-to-face with Francis. Besides hurting, his heart now yearned. It yearned to touch and for touch, but Arthur was a master of hiding it. His face remained neutral, but judging by Francis' soft gaze, maybe not fully.

"I'm already ready," Arthur pulled the sides of his black suit.

Francis nodded, "I know."

Francis walked inside. Instead of following him inside, Arthur turned and stared at the field one more time. The strong wind lifted loose grass and pollens to the air. It gave the illusion of dancing figures. Figures, that if Arthur looked hard enough, almost looked like them playing through the field when they were little. Arthur turned away and walked back inside.

Arthur found Francis fondly staring at one on the frames that sat on the cabinet near the screen door. "They were always very cute, weren't they?" Francis said with fondness and badly disguised sadness.

Arthur walked to him and also looked at the photo. It was one taken at Halloween. "They were," He agreed softly.

Francis laughed. It was empty with no humour, but Arthur knew what he was doing, hiding the pain. "They were around seven, weren't they? Alfred wanted to be a cowboy for the third year in a row, but Matthew did not. They rock, paper, scissored it, and Alfred won," Francis explained the story Arthur already knew. Matthew had thrown a fit, and only calmed down when it was agreed that he would pick the costume for the next year. Arthur could never forget. It was a great story that was told every year up until it couldn't anymore.

The photo was taken in front of the house. The boys were standing next to a huge pumpkin they had both helped carve. Alfred had a huge smile on his face, happy to have gotten his way, and Matthew had a smaller smile, simply happy to go trick-or-treating.

Arthur took a deep breath. If he let his feelings get the best of him, he might break down again. Francis placed the framed picture down and picked up another. This time, it was the first day of middle school. Alfred had started his superhero phase that never ended, and he was proudly wearing a Captain America shirt with red shorts. Matthew wore a simple red shirt with cargo shorts. The week before the first day, Alfred had been talking nonstop about how overly excited he was to finally reach middle school. Matthew shared his worries but with endless reassurance from both his parents and his twin brother, he, too, became excited.

Arthur sighed. Those middle school years were very important to them. Those were the years Alfred and Matthew actually fought with each other and promised each other they would never speak again. They always did, hours later, but one time, they didn't. They spent two days not talking to each other and in a grumpy mood. Arthur and Francis had to sit down with them and speak to them individually. The twins ended apologising to each other and rarely leaving each other's side. The fights continued. It was sign of their different, developing personalities, but they were less common and less severe.

"Ah, would you look at this," Francis set the photo down and picked up two others. Each were on different sides of the cabinet. "These are the best." The first one was photo of when Arthur and Francis were finally able to bring the twins home. Both of them looked so young, and the twins were only four years old. Arthur and Francis smiled when the photo was being taken, ecstatic for being able to start the new family, while Alfred and Matthew, being carried in their arms, looked at them with deep curiosity, not fully understanding that they had finally been adopted and were being brought home.

Arthur had to consider that being one of the best days of his life.

The next photo was almost in the same position. Alfred and Matthew were in the centre, and Arthur and Francis were on the sides. The only differences were that the twins were probably almost four times as tall and wearing graduation gowns. Huge grins were on the twins faces as they held their certificates high. Arthur was so proud that day, so ready to see what the boys would become.

Arthur sniffed, feeling like the emotions were ready to drown him. He needed to get away. The feeling was too much. He looked away and cleared his throat. It caught Francis' attention. "Weren't we leaving?" Arthur asked, sounding as angry as he was not.

"Ah, yes," Francis nodded sadly and put the frames down. "We should go," Francis' somber tone of voice returned. Arthur guessed he must have been going through memory lane from beginning to end when Arthur interrupted him.

This was one of the things Arthur hated about today. Well, he hated everything, but he especially hated this: going through the photos, the memories. Arthur did a fine job ignoring the photos that surrounded the house the remaining 364 days of the year, but today, Francis always made it impossible.

Arthur did not know why the other man still came by. Arthur could go himself. He was old enough. Francis did not have to come by to take him. Yet, every year he waited for the other man to come. And when he came, Arthur always asked the same question. Maybe it became their tradition.

Once outside, Arthur boarded Francis' hunk-of-junk car. Arthur might complain about the car every year, but he was glad he had the chance of riding it at least once yearly. It brought back so many dear memories Arthur wanted to get rid off but yet keep so dearly. Why won't the pain just go away?

Arthur lived in a desolated area, far away from their destination. The house was nice, still had its appeal. It was loved from the moment it was stepped on. No complains. Except for Alfred, who in high school, complained about not being close to any of his friends.

Arthur added another complaint. Too far from their destination. Francis and Arthur now had nothing to speak about. Whatever spark they once had was now only kept alive for the love they had for their twins, but it was not enough. The car ride was spent in silence. Being in this car in silence was different from the silence at the house. The memories that plagued Arthur became more vivid. As they were in a car, the worst ones were that haunted him.

...o0o...

 _"Be back before two at least," Arthur said as he handed a jacket to Alfred and Matthew grabbed the keys to their new car (new as in they had just received it as a birthday gift, not new as in the newest model)._

 _Alfred nodded and left through the front door. "We will," Matthew stopped at the front door to say. "Goodbye," He waved at Arthur._

 _"I'll see you later," Arthur had his arms crossed, but he still tried his best to wave._

 _"Have fun!" Francis yelled from the kitchen, which he was cleaning._

 _"Yes, Papa!" Matthew yelled before leaving as his brother screamed for him outside._

 _Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. He did not fully want his boys to go to this party. It started too late and ended too late, but the boys were old enough and could take care of themselves. They knew the rules. Arthur had no reason to not trust them, especially with responsible Matthew on Alfred's tail. With Francis' convincing, Arthur finally had let them go._

...o0o...

Arthur hit his head against the glass window. Francis might have glanced at him, but he did not say anything. Arthur closed his eyes.

He should have known better. He should have followed his gut. Why was he so stupid?

 _..._ o0o _..._

 _It could be said that the party was just getting started, but that was what was said an hour ago and two hours ago and so on. Matthew knew had to head home. It was late, and they promised._

 _Matthew would stay if he could. There was enough alcohol in his system to be having a pleasant conversation with just about everybody, especially Ivan, who was the one that kept replenishing the supply of alcohol. He stopped though. Long ago, though his perception of time became woozy after the fifth glass._

 _The clock was nearing two, and Alfred and Matthew had to go back. They probably reeked of alcohol, and one of their rules was not to drink, but Matthew doubted his parents were still awake. Still, Matthew would hate to break more rules. So he excused himself and said goodbye to Ivan before searching for his brother._

 _Matthew found him getting a little too comfy with Kiku. Both obviously intoxicated given by their flushed cheeks (was that completely by the alcohol though? Matthew wouldn't know). Matthew approached him from behind the couch and shook his shoulder. "Come on, brother. We have to go," Matthew said when he caught their attention._

 _"Argh, it's already time?" Alfred asked. Matthew nodded. "Dang it," Alfred looked back at Kiku, "I should've argued for three." Kiku laughed a little and covered his mouth. Something was going on there that Matthew had no interest in knowing._

 _Kiku smiled, "I shall speak with you later then."_

 _"Dude, yes, call me," Alfred did the phone hand sign before standing up. He stumbled slightly after, "Woah, too fast."_

 _"Let's go," Matthew motioned for him to follow him._

 _On their way out, they encountered the party host, who was drunkenly begging them not to leave as the party was just getting started. Alfred was almost convinced, but Matthew knew better. He grabbed Alfred's wrist and dragged him through the door._

...o0o...

They stopped at a red light. The same annoying red light that always took too long to change. The same red light that culminated everything.

Even though he was not there, he could see it, happening right before his eyes.

It was too much.

Arthur placed his elbows on top of the glove compartment and covered his face with his hands, "God." He was so angry; so angry with everyone, Francis, the twins, himself. He was also so completely devastated and helpless.

Francis put a hand in his back but said nothing.

...o0o...

 _"Thirty more minutes would not have hurt," Alfred crossed his arms and pouted. They had stopped at a crossroad. The red light took too long in this place, and Alfred seemed to have found it perfect to complain._

 _"Dad said two," Matthew simply said. It was so dark outside and Matthew was glad he had made it this far. Maybe he should have stayed thirty more minutes to sober_ _up more and blame it on not having at accessible clock if his parents ever asked._

 _"So what?" Alfred looked in front of him and sighed dramatically. At least, he knew Matthew was as stubborn as he was and would not budge when it came to certain rules. Certain rules, because he also broke the no alcohol rule. "So what exactly are we waiting for here?" Alfred asked a few milliseconds later._

 _"The light to turn green," Matthew looked at Alfred. "You see, that's what they teach you in driving school," He said sarcastically. He liked poking fun at Alfred when the latter asked obvious questions._

 _"Fuck you, Matt," Alfred simply answered. "Just cut it. They're no cars coming," He said. "This light takes years. We'll be nineteen by the time it turns," Alfred groaned._

 _"No," Matthew shook head. "I'll say it in French, non."_

 _"Funny," Alfred glared at him. "Come one, I agreed with you in leaving the party early. Can't you agree with me on this? We always worked better with deals."_

 _"We had to leave the party early. Rules," Matthew countered._

 _"Fuck rules! Just fucking go!" Alfred said agitatedly as the light turned green. "Oh," He calmed down. "Okay, you can go now."_

 _Matthew scoffed and rolled his eyes, "It's better to follow the rules, Alfred." He started driving slowly ahead. He knew he was not in the right state of mind to drive comfortably, so he was taking it slow._

 _"Shut up, drunk driver," Alfred said and looked at his twin. At that moment, he saw something that shocked him. Two bright lights. Close. Too close. "M-Matthew?" Alfred's heart started speeding up._

 _"What?" Matthew looked at him and raised an eyebrow._

 _"Watch ou-!" It was too late._

 _..._ o0o _..._

 _There was a knock at the door. It was too late for there to be a knock at the door. Alfred and Matthew had the keys, so they would not knock._

 _Nevertheless, Arthur put down the book he was reading on the coffee table and stood up to go open the door. Did the boys forget the keys? They were in the same key-chain as the car keys, so that was not possible._

 _Though sometimes it felt like everything was possible with those twins._

 _Arthur smiled at fond memories and looked through the peephole just to make sure it was the twins._

 _It wasn't._

 _It was men clothed in blue uniforms. "What the hell?" Arthur muttered. Why were policemen at his house this late at night? He had not done anything wrong. Francis surely has not either. Was it one of his brothers again? The twins? Impossible, they were good kids. Maybe these men had the wrong house._

 _Arthur took a deep breath and opened the door. "Good evening, gentlemen," Arthur greeted the men. Sure, it was almost three in the morning and not evening, but still... Wait? The twins were late. They promised to be here by two. Where were they? "Is everything okay?" He asked, frightened now._

 _"You must be Mr Kirkland... Bonnefoy?" One policeman looked at the files he held._

 _"Kirkland," Arthur informed him. He was proud of his last name, too proud to ever change it._

 _"Ah, yes," The same policeman nodded. He looked at the policeman next to him._

 _The other policeman took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, "I'm afraid there's been an accident involving your children."_

 _That was when Arthur's world started falling apart._

...o0o...

The car stopped. They made it to their destination. By then, Arthur was numb. "We're here," Francis muttered. Arthur slowly nodded. Francis sighed and turned off the car. He got out of the car and opened the door to the backseat, where a large bouquet filled with white lilies, carnations, chrysanthemums. All were beautiful flowers. All filled Arthur with so much sorrow. He gulped and stepped out of the car.

The day was still so beautiful. The sky was clear, and the wind was strong, hitting the branches of the huge trees. The silence was haunting.

"Are you ready?" Francis asked, bouquet in hand.

"Never," Arthur answered. He did not expect an answer back, and he was not surprised when he not received one. Francis simply nodded and started walking up the designated path.

...o0o...

 _"There was an accident where 24th street meets with East street. The car was a total lost..."_

 _"...hit and run..."_

 _"...we don't know who called emergency..."_

 _"...critical condition..."_

 _"...we're doing the best we can..."_

 _"...it's up to them…"_

 _"...we don't know..."_

 _"...we're sorry..."_

 _Complete numbness._

...o0o...

Arthur sank on his knees when he reached the site. Francis placed the flowers in the designated spot. A fresh chrysanthemum was already there, alongside other flowers. It meant that Kiku had gone and visit, maybe along with some other friends. The now young man had always been friends with the twins. He has never stopped coming to this place today or other important day. Both parents were grateful for him.

Arthur griped the green grass below him. He bit his bottom lip. He tried. He tried hard. Francis sat in one knee slightly behind him and placed an arm on his shoulder, "Arthur..."

Arthur flinched slightly. "Dammit," He cursed. "Dammit, why?!" He yelled loudly, cutting through the silence. He refused to look up. Looking up would make it too real, too unbearable.

"I'm sorry," Francis pulled him close. Arthur placed his forehead on the crook of Francis' neck. Tears started to flow. He never truly ran out.

"Why us? Why did it have to happen to us?" Arthur wept. His hands moved from the grass to Francis' shirt.

"Destiny is cruel sometimes," Francis muttered softly. He rubbed circles on Arthur's back. He, too, was crying, but he kept it silent. Tears flowing down his face. He tried to be strong for the sake of Arthur. It was always for the sake of Arthur, even after all these years.

Arthur sobbed into Francis' shirt. Maybe years ago, Francis would have complained, but not now. Never in the now. "I expected that, by now, it would be bearable, but bloody hell, the pain is still the same, Francis," Arthur muttered when he calmed down a bit.

"I don't think the pain will ever lessen," Francis said. He turned his head. Arthur felt the movement on top of him. He was facing the front, where Arthur refused to look.

He would have to eventually. He could not just come and not acknowledge. They would be disappointed with him. Arthur could see them frowning, so he slowly turned his head until he was facing the same direction Francis was.

In front of him stood a tombstone, the centre of his nightmares. On that tombstone, two names were written.

"Alfred... Matthew..."

His own voice was so small and weak. Arthur could not bear looking at the tombstone, so he hid his face again and his sobs came back. All the longing and precious memories were piling up on him, drowning him, and he could not escape them. There was absolutely nothing worse than this pain. Feeling your heart and mind cry endlessly for the same thing was tiring and destructive. It was a pain that could never be stopped as there was no way to stop it. The way was gone, buried six-feet under.

"I miss them so much..." Arthur gritted through his teeth. 'It's ripping me apart.'

" _Moi aussi, mon chéri_ ," Francis muttered in his native tongue. He placed his chin on top of Arthur's head and sniffed.

They stayed in silence. Occasional sobs breaking it at times. They eventually broke away from each other and stayed next to each other, staring at the tombstone. They stayed long enough for clouds to start rolling through the horizon.

"It appears that it's going to rain," Francis said as he looked up. Arthur nodded. "I think we should take our leave," He muttered and groaned as he stood up. "Would you like a hand?" He offered his hand to Arthur.

Arthur waved him off and looked at him. "I would like another second. Alone," He looked back at the tombstone, "Go start the car if you want." Francis nodded and walked away. Arthur waited until he could not hear him anymore and let go of the breath he did not know he was holding. He looked at the ground before looking back at the tombstone. "It's been five years," He started, "five years since you two have been gone. The house is still the same. Your frog of a father still has the same shitty old car he said he was going to change." He sighed. "I can't believe it's already been five years," He muttered to himself. "Time passes so fast," He brought his knees closer to the tombstone, "but it feels just like yesterday when you two talked excitedly about being accepted to the same college. You always had to do everything together." He smiled fondly and wiped the dried tears off his face. "And it makes me wonder..." He looked back at the stone, "if that's why you left together." Arthur placed his hand in Matthew's plaque. "My poor child..." He muttered sadly, "I bet you fought hard for your life, but it hit on your side. Doctors said you barely had a chance and sadly, you-" He choked up, "you passed away on the operating table." A tear fell and Arthur wiped it quickly.

Arthur moved his hand to the plaque below Matthew's. "Alfred..." He frowned. "You had a chance. The doctors said the worst was over, and yet three days later, you were gone." Arthur sighed. "Three days... That's the longest you two had been separated." He gulped. "Did you feel it, Alfred? Your brother being gone. Did you think it was too much? Did you give up?" He knew he would get no answer, but he still stayed quiet, maybe waiting. He only received the strong wind as an answer. "Yeah, that's what I expected," He sighed and finally stood up. His body was stiff from being in the same position too long. He was getting old. After cracking his back, he looked back down at the tombstone below him. Both were buried on the same plot, double depth, one on top of the other, like they would have probably wanted it to (Arthur and Francis did not fully know. The twins were too young to be thinking about death). This way, they would never be separated.

"I hope you two are happy, together, wherever you are," Arthur said as collectively as he could. His hands balled into fists. All in an effort to stay strong. "I hoped it worked," He looked down, left, right, up, everywhere but front, "and I'm sorry." He sighed, "I say it every year, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for anything I said that could've hurt you. I'm sorry that your dreams and goals and futures were taken away from you. I'm sorry that we couldn't do all the things you two wanted to do. I'm sorry that I didn't give you the goodbye I should've that night. I'm sorry that I only come once a year and not as often as I should or as Francis does. I'm sorry that your father and I couldn't work it out after." Arthur looked away from the tombstone, to the direction the car was at. "I wish we could have," He muttered quietly to himself. He looked at the tombstone again and placed his hands on top of it, "I love you two." Arthur took his index finger and middle finger and pressed them to his lips before pressing them back to the tombstone. He muttered a statement quietly before walking away.

"I wish I could say goodbye."

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so I have not uploaded anything to this website in two years and I've honestly forgotten how it even works. The reason for that is because I have fully lost my motivation and inspiration to write Hetalia stories. I have moved on to different fandoms. Still, this story came to me yesterday, and I could not really convert it to my new fandom, and all I could see was the FACE family, so I kept it and wrote it all in one day, so that I would not lose the motivation since I had the inspiration. I doubt I will write anything else for this fandom. The multi-chaptered stories I have will unfortunately remain discontinued. I wish it would not have been like this, but there's nothing I could do. I truly enjoyed this fandom and all it had, but good things often end. It was a pleasure writing this story and for this fandom, but I would now have to bid _adieu_.**

 **Sorry for the long paragraph, but I felt like it had to be said. I enjoy writing tragedies more than anything else as cruel as it sounds, and my goal when writing a story is to make sure people think about it and think about what it must feel. I could not bear to think how it must feel to lose two children, so I wrote it down. I am satisfied with the outcome, and I hope you readers are, too. Please feel free to save and write a small review. Take care! I love you all!**


End file.
